Dreaming Awake
by Moerae
Summary: Through the windows, Mars glared back at him and he wondered when exactly had he finally decided to leave the cycle of life there. Because really, it was there on that fiery red planet when everything started. And it has been a downward spiral since.


Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop in anyway.

This takes place some time near the end of the series and before the movie. Despite the fact that no one knows when the movie takes place...

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**Dreaming Awake**

The ever familiar feeling flitted down his spine like a lover's caress, sending unease and foreboding skittering across his mind. He sighed in resignation and languidly rolled off the foam mattress. Sleep was most definitely not coming for him tonight, not when the pit of his stomach was churning towards oblivion and every muscle in his body was taut with anticipation. Of course nothing ever happened, but it seemed his body was wired this way and who was he to question that?

He absently scrubbed at his hair, searched through his pants pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, and headed for the control room. He occasionally fidgeted as adrenalin coursed through his blood. _Nothing is going to happen_, he told himself stubbornly. _You're awake now, you're not going to wake up a second time._

An odd thing to be telling himself really, but it was one of those necessary things to soothe his sanity. Most of the time, when he closed his eyes to sleep, he would drop off like a rock. Other times he would twist and turn and finally his thoughts would have mercy and leave him alone. But on rare occasions, when he least expected it, his eyes would slip shut and the impending feeling of waking – _truly_ waking – would grip his heart. And it was at these times that he wished he could grit his teeth, roll over, and demand sleep to take him. However, nothing in his life came that easily.

He gave another little sigh and moved with whispered ease across the cold floor of the ship. The frigid steel sucked the heat out of the soles of his feet, but it really didn't matter because he was already numb. Fishing out what he deemed to be the cure-all for everything stressful and annoying, he lit up and took a long drag.

Through the windows, Mars glared back at him and he wondered when exactly had he finally decided to leave the cycle of life there. Because really, it was there on that fiery red planet when everything started. And it has been a downward spiral since.

Taking another long drag, he let the smoke eat away at his lungs and his eyes slipped shut as the feeling passed once more. The corner of his lips rose a fraction and he stubbed out his cigarette. It'd been a while since he had experienced it twice in one night. A very long while.

Some would say it was a trick of the mind, but was it really? He had always said that this was a dream. A never ending dream where he was standing precariously on the cliff edge between the conscious and the unconscious. Where one uncaring nudge would send him that much closer to the brink of waking, and a violent shove would shatter this fantasy into a million pieces. And despite everything, when he did 'wake up', what would be waiting for him then? Was there anything at all? Or was this just someone else's dream and Spike Spiegal was nothing more than a shadow? Those were the very questions that plagued him on sleepless nights, and they only intensified at times like these.

He brought his hand up and then remembered he had put out the cigarette already. Absently digging out the packet and his lighter, he pulled out a squashed stick of tobacco, lit it, and inhaled. The stark planet continued its orbit, mocking him with every degree it turned through and the image of Vicious lurking in the shadows, plotting his way up the ranks in the Syndicate flashed through his mind. He watched the vision drift by in the fading smoke.

Or maybe, he mused, picking up the thought trail, he couldn't quite admit that he was scared of death.

His lips stretched lazily into a wry smile. It was about time he visited Laughing Bull again. All this philosophical stuff was the old Indian's speciality and he wouldn't want to steal the man's job.

Taking a final look at Mars, he headed out of the room and wondered whether to take Faye's advice about baths being able to distract the mind.

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Author's note: I have no idea if Spike is IC or not... but eh. Hope you enjoyed. 

Extra note to go with the other note: I just re-watched the last couple of episodes again... and not exactly satisfied with some parts. It had been a while since I've seen this series when I wrote this. But I can't be bothered changing it. So I hope no one will come screaming at me about the gaping holes in this.


End file.
